• Hot Panda

• Hot Panda

• Hot Panda

• Hot Panda

• Hot Panda

• Long Mornings

What do you get when you combine toddlers and live indie rock? Hot Panda says their “best show ever!” As the base of operations for the Olympia All Ages Project, the Northern took their sponsor’s name seriously and put on a free low-amplification indie show for children. Within minutes of the doors opening, the hall was packed with two of the most under-represented age-groups at shows: children under 12 and their pushing-40-but-still-hip parents. The amps were turned way down, the show started early so the kids could be in bed by eight, and a generation of future musicians were no doubt inspired.

Before playing their mellow, reverb-drenched set, Long Mornings began by asking if they were quiet enough — something that would sound wrong coming from a band in any other circumstances. It was indeed quiet enough — the backing vocals weren’t sung into a microphone but remained completely audible while the drummer barely tapped on his mini Gretsch kit throughout the set. At times, the noise the children were making was louder than the full band. Despite being turned down, Olympia’s Long Mornings spectral keys and dual guitars cut through the clamor like a knife. Some of the children looked bored and antsy but others were thoroughly mesmerized by the introverted, layered music.

Hot Panda let one of the children introduce their first song, who proceeded to scream “Breaking Ninja!” into the mic. The band was obviously having a blast entertaining the kids; their whole set consisted of interactions with the children in one way or another. The kids were having a blast, too, as most were dancing recklessly at Hot Panda’s feet. Although they were forced to turn down, Hot Panda lost nothing from their performance. During a pirate jazz freakout, multi-instrumentalist Heath Parsons played accordion while standing on a chair. They played most of How Come I’m Dead, changing song titles and lyrics out of necessity when appropriate: “Fuck Shit Up” became “Mess Things Up.”

Even though it was likely that, for many in the room, this was their first exposure to indie rock, both the kids and their parents ate it up. The kids loved the way Chris Connelly sung like a mad ringleader, and the bands enjoyed playing to a much younger audience (“You kids are so much more entertaining than drunk adults”). Since Hot Panda are “practically from the North Pole” and “competing with Santa Claus,” they asked the kids up front what they wanted for Christmas. The kids enthusiastically responded with stuttered and screamed quips about toy Santa dolls, light sabers, and transforming things — as well as one girl who squealed that she wanted her own cat. Between every song Hot Panda would say something to keep the kids engaged and make them a part of their performance. The highlight was Hot Panda’s cover of “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch,” although a lot of the kids didn’t recognize it.

After the show, members of both bands were commenting how much fun it was entertaining the kids. The Northern’s experiment with introducing children to indie rock was a wonderfully heart-warming success. If more bands and venues were to put on free events like this, perhaps there will be more originality and less Auto-Tune copycats in the next generation of musicians.

How Come I’m Dead? is manic, full of frenzied guitars, cute melodies, gentle asides that calm things down nicely (piano downpours and gales of horns), and, for the most part, songs that inspire some form of movement or air punching: an undercurrent of anxiety swells with each track, as if menace and danger are just around the corner, stretching their limbs, lying in wait. As for the band, the year has been full of tours, (Pop Montreal, Halifax Pop Explosion) the release of a new album, the addition of a new bandmate, a new music video, and hopefully some rest down the road. We had a chance to ask Chris some questions about the new lineup, the new album, and some other related fanaticisms.

How has the band dynamic changed since Catherine Hiltz joined as the new bassist and trumpeter?
She’s made the band fun again! We were in a bad place for a while — the dynamic wasn’t there anymore and it was coming across at shows — but since Catherine’s joined everything seems to be going fine again. She can also play many different instruments, so it helps to have someone with that knowledge in the band.

What city would you like to play next?
Tokyo! I’ve never played in Japan, or been there for that matter. I hear it’s really different playing shows over there.

What has been your favorite song to cover live, and which band would you like to have cover one of yours?
We used to do a cover Louis Armstrong’s “I Want to Be Like You” from The Jungle Book. That was always a fun one to play. We had to stop because I think people liked it more than our original songs. If the cover upstages the originals, it’s gotta go.

What is the band’s writing and composing process like?
Most of the time, I’ll come into a jam with something that I’m working on, we’ll all jam on it, everyone will project their own ideas onto the skeleton of the song, [and] then, voila! We’ve created something that not one of us individually would have come up on our own.

What was your worst gig? How about your best?
Worst ever: In Peterborough at the Montreal House. Nobody was there, and a fight almost broke out! Between the members of Hot Panda… Best ever: Glasgow at King Tuts. We were opening for the Von Bondies. The crowds in Scotland were crazy and we played an amazing set. I think it was the one show on that tour that we stole from the Von Bondies.

What sort of headphones do you own?
I have very big ear muff kind of headphones. I just can’t listen to things on tiny iPod ones.

How many instruments does the band play?
Guitar, bass, drums, piano-like instruments, trumpet, accordion, harmonica, mandolin, cello…probably more.

Who is your favourite recording artist from the last decade?
It’s pretty hard to top the 2000 to 2010 Flaming Lips.

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Click here to download "Mindlessnesslessness" by Hot Panda

Sandwiched between two five-song solo acoustic mini-sets, Lou and the Missingmen — Raul Morales (drums) and Tom Watson (bass, guitar) — delivered a full throttle set of new songs from Barlow’s recent self-releases.  The new songs have an explosive immediacy that, combined with Barlow’s infectious pop hooks, make the last 10 years of relative stasis/self-parody disappear amidst swirls of glorious distortion.  Lou has a variety of effects pedals that he manipulates with the sure-footed skill of a veteran church organist.  The pedal rig itself looks like something from the deck of the USS Enterprise.

Lou prefaced the show with an apology:  “Half of our gear is broken.  This guitar usually has a much richer tone.” Before he even played a note, as if on cue, his microphone fell from his acoustic (thus would begin an the evening’s theme, that included Lou’s glasses falling off repeatedly mid-thrash).  “Does anyone have any tape?” he pleaded with the audience.   Jenn Wasner, from opener Wye Oak, came and performed a quick on-stage fix.  This was the first date of their tour together, and Wye Oak hung out for the entirety of Lou’s set — a sure sign of respect.

Lou began with acoustic versions of classics like “Magnet’s Coil” and “The Freed Pig.”  He concluded the set likewise, playing solo acoustic versions of his more recognizable tunes, including a heartfelt rendering of “Soul and Fire” on ukulele, muttering classic ‘tween-song Lou-isms like: “All of a sudden I feel depressed.” At one point late in the set, most likely as an observation regarding the maturity of his audience, which was reverently silent for his acoustic numbers, Lou remarked:  “If you have kids, what are you doing here?  I don’t go to shows anymore unless I’m playing at them, so it means so much to me that you’re here.”  Lou’s self-deprecatory sense of humor was on display all night: “I have a reputation for being oversensitive” — no kidding.  But sideman Tom Watson probably got in the night’s best line:  “Next time we’ll have a setlist.  You won’t like it as much.”  Lou ended the night with Smash Your Head on the Punk Rock‘s “Vampire ” and “Brand New Love,” sending all of us new and soon-to-be parents home happy.  It can sometimes be easy to dismiss our idols once we’ve moved on to newer, shinier obsessions, but Lou Barlow proved tonight that his music is still relevant and his voice still resonates.

Baltimore-based duo and Merge Records stablemates, Wye Oak, opened the show with a blistering set of recent and new songs, including set highlights “That I Do” and “For Prayer” from their critically acclaimed second album The Knot.  Wye Oak has an interesting dynamic.  They look like latchkey kids that might practice in your neighbor’s garage, but their sound is immense.  It’s all the more impressive knowing it’s made by only two people.

Lead vocalist/guitarist Jenn Wasner has a gorgeously textured voice that occasionally affects a country twang reminiscent of the high lonesome tones of alt-country chanteuses Neko Case and The Cowboy Junkies’ Margo Michael as well as cross-town rival Victoria Legrand (of Beach House), and that’s meant in the most complimentary terms possible.  She also has a dry wit and deadpan delivery:  “This is the best town we’ve ever played in…whose name begins with ‘Milf.’”

Speaking with Wasner at the merch table after the show, she mentioned the new album has already been tracked and will be mixed at the conclusion of this tour, which means we have another dose of incendiary indie rock on the horizon.  Also, unlike their previous albums, all indications from Jenn hint that their upcoming album will be released on vinyl in addition to CD and digital formats.

Described by the band as “an almost live representation of the Lou Barlow + the missingmen live show,” the band’s new digital EP = Sentridoh III (Merge Records) is another step forward for Lou Barlow, and his first release with new backing band the missingmen (guitarist Tom Watson and drummer Raul Morales). With new cuts, rocking reworks of songs from Lou’s Merge debut Emoh and his latest solo record Goodnight Unknown, as well as a hauntingly beautiful cover of Skip James’s “I’m So Glad,” = Sentridoh III is a must-have testament to this remarkable partnership.

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Lou Barlow - Losercore

In this case, the end was a new beginning. Freed from the noxious psychological combat with Mascis, Barlow focused his enormous creative energies on his lo-fi Sebadoh projects, releasing a string of home-recorded albums under that moniker, as well as Sentridoh, and also as a member of college radio darlings, Folk Implosion. Barlow has also released a series of solo records, most recently 2005’s Emoh, an album that made many critics’ Top 10 lists for that year. In 2007, he reunited with Dinosaur Jr. to release the critically-acclaimed Beyond, and this year the band followed up with the brilliant Farm. If that’s not enough, this October another Barlow solo record, Goodnight Unknown, will be added to his impressive discography. We were lucky enough to catch up with Lou via email, as he is currently touring Europe with Dinosaur Jr.

First off, let’s start with some of the more personal stuff. I read on your website that you have a new baby on the way. Congratulations! When is the baby due, and is it a boy or girl? Also you had a bit of a health scare in July — how are you feeling?
My wife is six months pregnant and there’s a boy in there. He’s meant to come out December 4th. My touring with Dinosaur, Jr. lasts until November 20th. Initially, the plan was to travel with my family, as we usually do, but my wife was far too uncomfortable too early in the pregnancy for that to be realistic. Realizing that we were going to be separated for nearly three months — which is unprecedented in our relationship — while she was pregnant and caring for a four-year-old was more than my heart could handle.

Though I didn’t have an anxiety attack, in the traditional sense (mental), my heart went haywire and I ended up in the hospital on my 43rd birthday. That was humbling. I went through a battery of tests, all results negative. Now I just do less of what I was already doing less of: drinking alcohol and caffeine, and worrying. Halfway into the European tour things are okay — Skype makes it easier.

And speaking of the tour, where are you now? How is the Dino Jr. part of the Lou Barlow experience going? How is Farm being received on the other side of the pond?
Farm has done well over here, too. We’re playing to more people. We are currently in Italy — Bologna. I’m trying to force the band into playing two of my songs in the set every night. I also forced my way into an opening slot on the US tour with extra bunks on the bus for my band. But, overall, things are going well. I welcome the challenge, but I’m not sure how much “Lou” Dino can handle.

What has the highlight of the tour been thus far? And the lowlight?
The highlight was a sold-out show in Oslo. We played well. The night before, in Trondheim (Norway), was a disaster. We fell apart — which made the Oslo show that much sweeter.

Michael Azerrad’s book, Our Band Could Be Your Life, made a pretty convincing argument for Dinosaur Jr.’s inclusion in the underground rock canon. It also painted a not-so-pretty picture of the psychological warfare between you and J. [Mascis]. What do you think about that book? How accurate do you think his rendering is?
I talked to Michael a lot. I unloaded every bit of bile I could muster. So it is accurate in the sense that he printed what I said. After I read the results it just depressed me rather than making me feel vindicated or “right.” It seemed very small-minded and petty. So after that I opened myself up more to the idea of connecting with J. again, and saw the reunion as a way to change the story. I personally like bios that dish serious dirt — I hate tasteful mystery. I want facts. So in that spirit I gave Michael all I had.

And now here we are two albums into the reunited band’s second act. You’ve toured pretty extensively — you’re currently on tour, including the North American dates when you get back from Europe. You’re even piggybacking your solo shows — Lou Barlow and the Missingmen — onto the Dino Jr. US dates. Something has obviously changed! What has made the difference this time around and contributed to a less contentious working relationship (if indeed that is the case)? How do you let go of that old baggage, and how has that affected you artistically?
I’m actually far more contentious and involved than I ever was back in the day. I think communication is necessary, so I push for that. But it’s an ongoing experiment: trying to get what I need without putting too much stress on the situation.

My initial involvement ended 20 years ago. I don’t think anything I felt 20 years ago has much credibility. So it’s easy to drop the baggage and get on with it. But, of course, the basic differences in personalities and chemistry still exist, but there’s nothing quite like your first real band. I hope I can play with J. and Murph for a long, long time. The songs I’ve written for Dinosaur on Beyond and Farm are more or less about the reunion. With my Dino songs I wanted to collaborate with J. and Murph and write from the top of my head about the surrounding circumstances.

On to your forthcoming solo record, Goodnight Unknown. I’d like to hear you describe your influences, but let’s segue in that direction with something Rob Theakston wrote on the Allmusic site about your 2005 album, Emoh:

“After nearly 20 years it’s hard to believe Lou Barlow can’t find something to be happy about, but much to the relief of his fans, that is clearly not the case…It’s a mature, accomplished statement for one of indie rock’s most reliably miserable men.”

A great review, I think. Do you think your work is that unrelentingly bleak? You’ve got a lot of wonderful things happening in your life — including those babies — so where does this melancholy that infuses many of your songs come from? And do you personally find hopefulness in your words? I know I do, but I am curious about how you respond to those who find the negative more compelling.
I don’t think my work is bleak at all. A lot of it is about reconciling and adjusting to difficult changes — losing friends, negotiating a long-term relationship. Very few of my songs are bleak from start to finish. For me there are threads of hope through [them all]. There has to be. I can’t tolerate negativity, believe it or not. The songs are ways to talk myself through transitions — mantras that I repeat to reassure myself. But, admittedly, my sensibilities may lean to the dark side. But it seems to be that way with everyone I know, so…

Are there other singer/songwriters exploring similar themes that inspire you, or is this simply your own preferred area of exploration?
I just write. The songs are puzzles — I start with a phrase and a melody and find my way to the end. I’d like to be more influenced by writers and other musicians, thematically, but I’m not. I’m inspired by the energy other people have: the mountain of amazing music that has been made and will be made, the power of language. But I’ve been in my little corner for awhile, sorting things out in a simple, familiar way, creating a body of work that will, hopefully, hang together in the end.

Your early work with Sebadoh, Sentridoh, and Folk Implosion cemented your reputation as one of the godfathers of the lo-fi “movement,” if it can be called that. Just about every article I was able to dig up about you mentions that. But I’d love to know if that moniker has any meaning to you. Many of your records sound anything but lo-fi — certainly Emoh and now Goodnight Unknown have a really interesting pallet of sounds and effects. Songs like “Sharing,” the title-track “Goodnight Unknown,” and “The Right” on the new album are awash in swirling guitars that betray a certain confidence in the studio. Can you talk about your creative process and the way that you worked on the new record? Did it differ significantly from what you were doing in 2005 on Emoh?
I grew up listening to the Young Marble Giants, the Swell Maps, and a plethora of DIY post-punk. I heard these bands before I began recording myself. I’m just a part of that flow: home recorded punk-influenced music — the urge to capture something at an early, minimal stage in an environment that is comfortable.

But like the “miserable” thing, lo-fi is a brand that can be attached to what I do without much thought. I don’t think it’s an accurate description for most of the records I’ve done either. But I do love lo-fi.

For Goodnight Unknown I recorded most of the tracks myself before taking it to a studio to finish. In my opinion the tracks on Emoh that I recorded myself were the most successful so I wanted to follow through on that and make a more textured record, incorporating more lo-fi elements. But I didn’t want to limit the appeal of the record either, so I found help to provide clarity when I wanted it.

That said, many of the songs are quiet and introspective. But you seem to draw from a pool of musicians who are known for their work in bands that are heavy and rockin.’ Dale Crover’s [of the Melvins] sledgehammer drumming on a few of the new songs is really distinctive. And you’ve plucked Tom Watson and Raul Morales from Mike Watt’s band for your US solo dates. How do you choose your band mates when you’re playing the solo stuff?
It’s all fate, really — proximity, necessity. I met Dale when the Folk Implosion opened for the Melvins. I found he and his band mates to be very open-minded and peers in that they discovered punk rock at about the same time I did. He’s a great drummer, very inventive and totally unassuming. Aggressive music is where I cut my teeth. The acoustic element is something I’ve cultivated simultaneously. Dale seemed an obvious choice: our daughters are roughly the same age and we see each other regularly on the pre-school circuit.

Tom and Raul were playing with Mike Watt when they opened for Dino Jr. last spring. Tom was in a punk band called Toxic Shock, who contributed a great song to one of my favorite punk compilations Keats Rides a Harley. Later, he was in Slovenly, a great lost SST band. When I mentioned I wanted to form a band to support my record he offered his services. He lives close by so that sealed it.

Another thing that I noticed is the extensive work that you’ve done with filmmaker Adam Harding for the new material. I think there are already videos for six of the songs. And there is a really cool 30-minute “making of” documentary up and running on YouTube. What is your connection to Adam?
Adam was an Australian Sebadoh fan who had an email correspondence with my wife starting in ’94 or so. Fate led him to LA. Eventually he needed a place to stay, so we helped him out. During his time as our houseguest he was working for various studios and video companies as an editor. I suggested he begin working on videos for my album as a way to earn his keep. That began an organic process by which he conceived video ideas through our conversations and used his studio contacts to procure expensive equipment at no cost.

How active were you in the video-making process?
Very. Adam edited the videos, sometimes, on the dining room table with my daughter running around. He poured himself into the work and I did whatever I could to help, from editing ideas to doing voiceovers for the documentary. It was a special time.

Have you experimented with video to this extent before? What is the connection, in your mind, between music and film?
I was very involved in the making of a few Sebadoh videos (“Skull” and “Ocean”), and shot one myself (“Flame”). I think videos are important if only because I enjoy watching them myself. It’s nice when a band or artist involves themselves and their personalities come out in the work. It’s a very effective way to draw people into the songs. I’ve had some amazing days shooting videos, most recently the Dino Jr. video for “Over It.”

Any future plans to continue that sort of experimentation?
I hope so. I’d like to start filming the early stages of recording so the videos reflect the whole process.

And speaking of the future, what are you thinking about? There is a lot going on your life, at least over the short term: new album, the tour, new baby. But what’s down the line? Is there something you’ve wanted to do but never had the opportunity?
I’m thinking about my next batch of songs. I want to write more — words, journals, etc. Sharpen my language skills. Also maybe take guitar and/or piano lessons. I need more dexterity in my playing and a broader scope in my writing. So if I do some basic skill-building exercises, maybe that can happen.

Of course that’s all a very convoluted way of asking you, what’s next?
I’d like to collaborate more with J. If Dino Jr. makes another record, I’d like my songs not to suck. I’ve barely tapped his skills! He has incredible compositional abilities, he’s a monster of rhythm.